The Rise and Fall of the American Empire
by SwordsAndScones
Summary: Perfect. That was all he never was and all he ever wanted to be. Alfred sacrificed it all to become supreme, but nothing lasts forever, right? Some mistakes can change the world. Featuring Snapped!America, and extreme perfectionism. UsUk, and some other pairings.
1. How did this begin, my dear?

Perfect.

Perfect.

That's all he never was and all he ever wanted to be. Yes, it very well may be impossible. If you were to bring that up he would become determined and whisper, 'Not to a hero.'

Nobody knew quite when this perfection obsession started blooming. Although, if you asked a certain British gentleman, he would go red in the face. He was very close to the other man. And defensively, he would announce, 'Of course I don't know what happened to Alfred. He was... Always seemed so fine... But..."

Then you may end up with one of two scenarios. Either the Brit would begin to curse you out for reminding him of his lost love, or he would completely break down in tears before you. For he had known Alfred Jones nearly three hundred years. He loved the man with most of his heart (the other part was saved for tea.) and then was forced to watch him crumble away. All due to his perfection obsession. Which may or may not have been caused by aforementioned Brit, Arthur Kirkland.

These men had no easy lives. Personifying a country was hard work, you know. Living forever. Watching your friends grow old and die as you stayed young forever. The only people that could stay with them no matter what were others of their kind, right?

That's what Arthur thought.  
Until the day he saw Alfred fall.

But why start telling a story at the ending? Lets go to the beginning of the fixation.  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

He raised his gun.

"I'm no longer your little brother. From now on, consider me... Independent." Alfred liked the way the word fit in his mouth. It was one of his favourite words, right alongside freedom. The ironic part was he had never witnessed either of those things firsthand.

"W-What?" Arthur stared at his colony. His thirteen colonies, America. "No. I won't allow it." This land was precious to him. Not just because it was an important part of the British Empire, but he deeply cared for the boy representing it. "You idiot! Why can't you follow anything through to the end?" Arthur's mouth continued to move. He was speaking, but the rage was too built up in his body to allow him to hear anything but betrayal. Betrayal, that's all this was. Betrayal, mutiny, rebelling, anger, hurt, loss, pain, pain, pain...

A gun flew to the side in a clash of metal. He had managed to disarm Alfred. With a shaking hand, he held the gun to his now-former charges head. He would show him. This is an overgrown tantrum, that's all.

The man in his blue uniform stared into the bayonet. If this is how he should go down, so be it. This was his revolution. He would become a martyr, his people would become enraged and carry on full force. He prepared the gun to fire as he repeated a statement quietly.

'Give me liberty or give me death.'

Arthur's eyes widened. He stared at this boy. Was this really the same child who had clung to his leg and begged him not to leave? No. Not anymore. This was a man. A cruel man, but strong nonetheless. He threw his gun to the side. "... There's no way I can shoot you." The rage that was boiling inside of him turned to sadness and came down like a million bricks. And then he collapsed. He murmured phrases of self pity and small pleas, though the independent country standing before him remained stoic on the surface.

A tear dropped from his blue eye, though in the rain it was barely noticeable. Alfred loved Arthur, he really did. But he had just battered his soul, he caused so many imperfections... And now the man was on his knees sobbing before him. Was this what having the innocence of your psyche stolen was like? Alfred never wanted to witness that for himself. He never wanted to hurt his dear Arthur. It was then, in 1774, that the American promised himself something.

No matter how long it took. No matter what he had to sacrifice. He would never give up until he was perfect. Until he could save his innocence forever. And perfection was the only way to do so.

He shook his head sadly and looked once more at the man on the ground.

"You used to be so great."

**OKEY SO THERES YOUR PROLOGUE!  
Chapter one will be set in the present day, but I couldn't pass up some Revolution feels...  
Follow? Favourite? Review? Please do!  
Thanks for reading :D  
~****_SwordsAndScones_**


	2. Please leave my utopia

Why would they do this?

Her name was Ayunli. She was the representative of the Cherokee people. But as the tribes numbers decreased, she became the representative of all the native peoples.

Native. They were born here. They were connected to this land. But now, they were being forced off of it.

"Your people are blemishes. I can't let them contaminate my nation."

She shook her head in disbelief. "You're wrong, Alfred. There is no problem with them. They're very kind, they even agreed to change their lives to fit this 'perfect' delusion of yours!"

Alfred glared, his eyes typically masked with kindness were now sharp blue flames. "I've arranged for soldiers to take all of you out west, into a designated territory. You will stay there, I don't care if you want to or not. This is my country. You are simply living in it."

The room was tense with rage. Ayunli was about to say more, to counter his idiotic rambles. But he snapped his fingers, soldiers gripped her roughly, and she was dragged away.

That was the last time he saw Ayunli.  
Her people were forced west of the Mississippi River. And when Alfred wanted that land, they were moved again. He could not have such uncivilised savages living in his utopia-in-progress.

This event became known as the Trail of Tears.

A few nights, when America felt humane, he would look into the sky and make a silent apology to his old friend.

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, the only map he owned was not one of just the USA. Alfred had a huge pull down map of the world in his basement. He often stayed awake at night looking at it. Compared to the earth, he was a very small place. He wanted it all.

His finger rested upon his own country. It disgusted him, nowhere near perfect. After so many years. Still not supreme. He was considered a world superpower, yes, but that simply wasn't enough to feed his obsession.

He traced across the Atlantic Ocean, which it then rested on the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. More specifically within that title, it rested on England. He loved the man, that was very true. At one point in time, he was very close to being perfect. But he lost it all. And that was quite sickening.

Upon hearing footsteps on the stairs, the map snapped up into place. Alfred quickly slipped on his black leather gloves as he turned to face the entrance. His face was graced in his best heroic smile.

It was at that moment Arthur stepped into the room. "What are you doing down here tonight, hm? I expected you to be in bed at this time."

He looked around, absorbing the details of this basement. The walls were made up of wood panels, as was the ceiling. Small throw rugs were throws across the concrete floor. He also noted one wall was entirely covered in newspaper clippings and Wikipedia articles. The top of that wall had flags hung up; beginning from his colony days, thirteen starred flag of independence, even several from his civil war. The last flag was the largest, it was his current fifty starred flag. Arthur slipped into a smile at the other mans patriotism.

"I thought your plane was landing tomorrow, dude..." He let out a laugh in hopes it would mask the nerves in his voice. "I was just finishing up some stuff. "

"I thought I could surprise you. Are you okay, luv? You're acting a bit different."

He silently cursed himself. If Alfred had known Arthur was getting here earlier, he would've had time to revert into his airhead persona.

"Im fine, fine... Like you said. I should be in bed. I'm tired." He rubbed the back of his head and did what he thought was a convincing yawn.

"That's alright, you need to sleep. Come on now. And for the love of god, take off those gloves! It's nearly eighty degrees in here!"

Arthur begged for a good ten minutes, yet Alfred refused to remove the gloves.

He needed them when he was near the Brit.

He loved the man; he really did.

But he was imperfect.

He could not let that wear off on him.

He could not touch Arthur if he wanted to become perfect.

No matter how much he longed to.

* * *

**CHAPTA ONE!**

**If you liked it, please review! If you didn't, please review! If you dunno of you did or didn't, please review! If you have a grandma named Bean who wears a sombrero, you may need to see a doctor about your mental health!  
Thanks for reading 3  
~****_SwordsAndScones_**


	3. I spoke with my boss

**In response to KKsaiyancat: No, none of the other countries know of his little obsession. Yet. *WINK WINK*.**

**Since that's all questions, ON WITH THE STORY!**

* * *

The morning was relatively silent. Arthur sipped at his tea and Alfred sipped at his coffee. The silence would soon be broken; shattered even.

"Hey Arthur? You know how you used to be an empire?"

Crack.

"Tell me how you did it."  
"Why are you so interested?"

Crack.

"... I want to rule the world."

Boom.

Arthur looked up at him and chuckled. "Quite a sense of humour, lad. That's something I've liked about you." Something in him knew it wasn't a joke, he didnt want to believe it. "You know that's nearly impossible to do now a days. With so many powerful countries and weapons..." He sipped his drink and opened his mouth to continue, but the younger nation cut him off.

"I can start at the bottom. Third world countries and stuff. I can do it." He nodded, fierce determination making his eyes glow. He'd been preparing for this. Ever since that independence, he was entirely ready to rule the world. Feel the rush of power in his veins. Everywhere he walked, knowing he owned each blade of grass. Every pebble. He would mold the world into perfection...

"It's not a good idea." The Brit snapped him from his day dream. "You know the rest of the world won't like that, and they'll fight back. There's a greater chance of you getting hurt than succeeding." He set the mug down since he no longer had any appetite. He raised Alfred; the boy was stubborn. And something told him nothing he said could make a difference. "Besides, your boss would never agree to it."

Alfred shrugged. "I can talk him into it. You gotta trust me on this, I got big plans for the world! And I thought you could help me, since you almost ruled the world before." He fell back into his fantasyland but this time imagined Arthur with him. _It's not as glorious_, he thought, _but it still_ _works_. "You could rule with me."

Arthur's rule had been easier to establish; he simply colonised new places. Now most of the world was already colonised. And truth be told, he didnt like ruling very much. All of his colonies left him, and now he was a small piece of his former empire. Was it possible to end differently, though?

They sat in another silence for several minutes.

"Alright. Talk to your boss."

Crack.

"If he, by some odd chance, agrees..."

Crack.

"I'll help you with the crazy plan of yours."

Boom.

* * *

They sat in an empty room. Alfred and his current president. He requested the meeting be extremely private, no secret service men and especially no security tapes. This was refused the first several times, but they eventually gave in.

"We could take down places like Angola, Sudan, Libya or Ethiopia first." Alfred continued, pointing out the countries on the map. "Places that aren't too strong."

His boss looked at him. "America, it says in your file you've tried to pitch this idea to your previous leaders. And they've all turned you down. Personally, I don't think this is a very good idea. So tell me, why do you think I should send out my-our people and risk so many of their lives to take over a few third world countries?"

The room was suddenly full of tension as America lifted his head. This would be another rejection. Something inside him snapped; and he was about to change the world forever. Not for the better.

He met the gaze of his boss and whispered, "Because I have a gun."

The silence began to settle as realisation flooded. The President immediately pressed on the alarm, calling guards to the room for assistance.

At the very same moment, America pulled out his gun. It was almost like a movie. It all happened in about 3 seconds, but was prolonged to nearly a minute in his eyes. He shut his eyes, fired once, and felt a pain within himself.

He had just lost a leader.

He dropped the gun next to the limp body. Alfred placed his hand over the alarm button as men poured in through the door. Slowly turning to face them, tears poured from his eyes. His usual heroic howl was lowered into a pained whisper.

"Thank goodness you're here..."

The men swarmed him, looking at the fallen man, the gun, and the only person that had been in here with him.

Alfred clenched his stomach. It was always painful when a nation was stripped of a leader. The men dragged him from the room, his throat suddenly too tight to speak.

"It was horrible..." He would later say. "He j-just said he wanted to see my gun and then he... H-he..." He broke into tears and pulled the blanket tightly around himself. "I hit the alarm as fast as i could but it was too late.." As Alfred lowered his head, he looked once again at his gloves. Gloves he had not taken off the entire time, gloves that would prevent fingerprints anywhere.

_He was smarter than he looked_.

* * *

The nation was in a panic. Had the President of the United States really just committed suicide? The Vice President claimed to now be 'too shaken up' to take office. She resigned her position and told them to offer it to the next in line.

Alfred stopped them in the corridor. "I think I should take over the job." Before they could reject the idea, he held up his hands. "Just listen. He told me everything, all of his plans and secrets. I know what the people feel and what the people want. Who better to lead than the country itself?" He was almost entirely sure there was something in the constitution against this. There were in fact many things against this. The men looked at each other, then began calling a meeting. An exact twenty-two hours later, they reproached Alfred.

* * *

"A new leader for the United States has been chosen. And it is the United States! Otherwise known as Alfred F. Jones, this nations personification has stepped up to the job."

Arthur muted his TV and stared. He had known about the tragedy that had taken place some time before, but now... This?

He shook his head and reached for his phone. "Dear god, what has that boy done..."

* * *

Please review! ~S&S


	4. Like a death sentence

The reputation that had always trailed him was 'innocent.' Things like shallow, airheaded, childish. The other countries always seemed to ignore how dangerously cruel he could really be. They had a few tastes of his inner malevolence, whether it be the bombings in WWII, or the Cold War, the prison camps he sent Japanese families into that were only slightly better than nazi camps... Yet nobody understood. Nobody could see far enough past his facade to realise Alfred Jones truly was an evil mastermind. But that wasn't what he planned; he just wanted to be the hero.

* * *

Blue eyes were locked on the second hand. It jumped, every movement taking him closer. The inauguration ceremony would be in seven minutes. Seven minutes. The small ticking a of the clock were louder than any of his thoughts, face grim as if he was facing a death sentence.

There was a vibration from his pocket, but he ignored it as he had the four times before. Arthur should not be calling him before this event. He needed his bearings straight, he needed everything utterly correct and he knew hearing that British voice he so longed for would set his emotions out of balance.

Tick. Five minutes.

'Get up,' he commanded himself, 'go make sure everything is ready. You're about to be sworn into office. You can't screw this up.'

Still, he had five minutes. So against his own wishes, Alfred's mind began to wander.

Why was he doing this? To take the world into his capable hands and create a total utopia, of course. That would require him taking every country under American control and destroying any that refused to submit.

His mind wandered into forbidden territory, things he hated even imagining.

What if the UK, or more specifically England, wouldn't join him willingly? He would rule by his side for a while, but eventually Alfred would want that land too. Could he bring himself to destroy Arthur? Look into those lifeless eyes and know it was his doing? He would have to, but... Would destroying the only person that could bear to love you be worth the world?

He imagined how it would go down. The US army going in insidiously. Dropping several bombs across the island nation, burning everything they could, executing the people until nothing was left.

And at the very same time, there would be Arthur. Coughing up blood. Every inch of muscle would ache and tears would pour down his face as he slowly faded from existence, the only thing left of him a charred landmass covered with corpses.

The clock struck and men came in to retrieve Alfred. Yet the only thoughts that could fill his mind were of Arthur. What would it be to lose your love?

* * *

Arthur had stopped calling once he got on the plane. He had to get to America as soon as possible. Speaking to your boss and becoming your boss were far from the same. And him conveniently offing himself? That was severe. He wouldn't tell the media, but he had to confront Alfred on this. Murder is no game.

He felt the plane jolt around him as they took flight. Great. Maybe he could stop this 'American Empire' nonsense once and for all.  
And who better than a former pirate to do the silencing?

* * *

**Thanks for all the reviews, and to the new followers, HI! As implied there will be smut in the next chapter, so the rating is going to change. And sorry this took so long, it's just that school has been draining the life out of me...  
I'll try to post faster next time. Also, can anyone guess what the absence of dialogue in this chapter symbolises?~  
Thanks for reading!  
~S&S**


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